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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23554837">Howl</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/DruHorror/pseuds/DruHorror'>DruHorror</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Boyfriend to Death (Visual Novels)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Not Beta Read, Other, POV First Person, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Stockholm Syndrome</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 17:47:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,034</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23554837</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/DruHorror/pseuds/DruHorror</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Despite the things Vincent put you through, you could still be together. Couldn't you?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Vincent (Boyfriend to Death)/Original Character(s), Vincent (Boyfriend to Death)/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>39</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Howl</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Vincent was still Vincent. Yes, things were different between us. That didn’t make it perfect. I would hesitate to even call it good.
</p><p>On the one hand, he saved me that night when he shoved me into the locker. I’d held him, told him it wasn’t his fault. He was too hard on himself. I tried not to focus on the fact that he was the one who put my life in danger in the first place. 
</p><p>After it was all over, he took me back to his apartment. The place where all of this began…
</p><p>He worked on patching me up, putting parts back the way they belonged. He told me about the changes I would be going through… 
</p><p>I decided to put it into the back of my mind for the time being that was a problem for future me. Present me needed to heal after everything I had been through. 
</p><p>Vincent could be surprisingly gentle when he wanted to be. Even if he didn’t want to let me leave the apartment... No, he didn’t put in those exact words, but it became increasingly clear as time went on. When I asked to get some things from my house, he was quick to give me a response.
</p><p> “Don’t worry about it. I’ve still got your keys. I can drop by your place. Just let me know what you want.”
</p><p>Was he just trying to be nice? I couldn’t really convince myself of that. Even my suggestion that I go outside and get some fresh air was met with a negative response.
</p><p> “I can open the window for you. I just don’t think that it’s a good idea for you to be up and around yet.”
</p><p>I wasn’t sure what he was afraid of. Maybe he thought I would contact the police? Did he think they would believe a story about a werewolf? Maybe he was afraid that I would bolt if given the chance? Despite any gripes I had, I didn’t want to leave him. Maybe it was just Stockholm syndrome, maybe not. He was lonely, and I wanted to be there for him. 
</p><p>Being with him even felt downright <em>nice<em> at times. It turned out he could cuddle when he put his mind to it. I don’t know how many times he sat on the bed, arms wrapped around me in silence. There was no need for words. I knew how he felt. 
</em></em></p><p>
  <em>
    <em>After everything that happened, it felt so innocent. Despite the things he had done to me, he enjoyed the feeling of just being touched, the warmth of another person. It didn’t need to be sexual. 
</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>He didn’t touch me like that, until the day that he did.
</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>One week with him had turned to two, and two to three. Soon we approached the time of the month that he dreaded. It would be my first time too. As the time drew nearer, Vincent began to act… antsy. He didn’t seem angry, but he spent a lot of time fidgeting and pacing around the apartment.
</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>Attempts to cuddle were cut short as he excused himself to the bathroom.  It was uncomfortably clear what he was doing on the other side of the door. I tried not to think about it.
</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>I was almost asleep when he climbed into bed behind me. That was nothing out of the ordinary. I felt his hand on my hip, it lingered there for a moment before I felt him tug on my sweatpants. My eyes popped open, but I couldn’t move. 
</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>He whispered my name and pressed his face to the back of my neck. 
</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>I felt my stomach twist. The last time he had me… 
</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>His breath puffed against my ear as he whispered, “I want you so bad.”
</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>A million thoughts ran through my head, but I couldn’t bring myself to act on any of them. 
</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>Vincent growled and slipped his hand inside my pants.
</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em> “I can make you cum so hard,” he promised.
</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>I wanted to push his hands away, at least tell him to stop. But what if I made him angry? What would…? 
</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>He turned me onto my back and straddled me, “I’m so fuckin’ hard for you.”
</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>Apparently, I didn’t look too enthusiastic about that statement. 
</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>His face fell, “Hey, don’t worry, I ain’t gonna hurt ya.”
</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>I forced a smile and nodded, but he remained unconvinced. 
</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em> “Here, let me show you,” he tugged the sweatpants down and exposed me all the way to my knees.  He gave me a lopsided grin before pulling them the rest of the way down and tossing them aside. 
</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>He briefly stopped to kiss my lips before burying his face between my legs. 
</em>
  </em>
</p><p>

      <em>Let him have his way. It’s always better to let him have his way. </em>
    
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em>I squeezed my eyes closed and tried to follow my own advice. He ran his tongue over me and occasionally paused to murmur unintelligibly. 
</em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
        <em>That feels good. Focus on that. </em>
      
    
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em>He was right. I came pretty hard.
</em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em> “You like that?” he chuckled.
</em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em>Vincent didn’t wait for an answer before he opened his pants and climbed between my legs. I tried to take deep breaths.
</em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em>My thoughts starting racing. Things I wanted to forget…
</em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p><p>

      <em> <em> “Not really giving you a choice now.”
</em></em>
    
  
</p><p>

      <em> “I’ll stop when I fucking feel like it.”
</em>
    
  
</p><p>
 
      <em> “Just take it like the bitch you are.”
</em>
    
  
</p><p>

      <em> “I want it to hurt.”
</em>
    
  
</p><p>
  
      <em>He was on top of me. Inside me…
</em>
    
  
</p><p>

      <em> “You look so much cuter when you cry.” </em>
    
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em>I heard my name, “Are you ready?”
</em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em>Trembling, I nodded. A lie. 
</em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em>On top of me again. Inside, but not rough. He was trying to be gentle. I could hear him whispering. Reassurances?  He knew what he was doing was wrong.  He knew I didn’t want this. He had to know what was running through my mind. 
</em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em> “I love you.”
</em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p><p>I stared at the ceiling. <em>Please be over soon. Please.</em>
    
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em>Mercifully, it was. He stayed there like that, fingers twisted into my hair.  I wasn’t sure </em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em>how long we stayed like that before he got up to go to the bathroom. 
</em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em>I couldn’t bring myself to move. It would get better eventually. It had to. 
</em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em>Right?
</em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>
      <em>END</em>
    </em>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>What did you think? Did you enjoy it? Should I throw my laptop in my swimming pool?</p></blockquote></div></div>
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